Cloak and Dagger Cat and Mouse
by thelastmiraluka
Summary: John is pissed. Apparently, Sherlock doesn't know the Magnussen case over. Why else would he seem to be high as a kite? And what's this nonsense about a new flat mate? Does the poor thing know what she's saddling herself with? Mary says not to worry. But that's all John seems able to do.


John sat silently across from Sherlock, Mary by his side. Mrs. Hudson busied her in the in the kitchen, trying to escape the tension that practically leaked from the other room.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair. Fingers stippled, pressed against his lips, matching Johns unwavering stare. Had you not known Sherlock on sight, he would have looked normal. Very well put together in fact. But John, even Mary, knew better.

His purple shirt had just a few creases in it, his black slacks traced with just a few hints of brown dust. His outfit was incomplete, his blazer missing. Thinking about it, Sherlock wasn't even sure what happened to it or where it was.

Dark curls a crazy mess, not intentional. Green eyes slightly glazed over. Just enough to show John that it wasn't really Sherlock before him at present. No matter how hard the other tried to hide it.

Mary watched them both. Eyes switching back and forth between the two frequently. Her hand resting protectively on her stomach.

John was staring just as intently back at Sherlock. If it weren't such a serious issue, Mary would have laughed at them. She kept silent.

It was clear they had left the house in a hurry. John in just a plain button down, no ever-present jumper. Jeans from the day before, loose fitting with the stretching yesterdays chores had done them. His blonde hair looking like he had gone through a wind tunnel. Blue eyes unwavering, and very tired.

She sighed and shifter in her set. Having been in a rush she had grabbed the first articles of clothing from her side of the closet. Pre maternity pants, cutting into her hips, old band t-shirt that she doesn't remember how she got. Her feet were stuffed into a pair of black UGGS, even though the weather wasn't really appropriate for it. She always hated it when people wore the winter boots anytime.

Sweeping her short blonde hair behind her ears she got up. She smiled when both sets of eyes swung her way, betraying them. Not long now till she was due, long enough though.

Boys, she thought, always worried.

"I'm just going to make some tea. Let me know who wins."

"Wins?" John asked, voice tight even though he was trying to sound fine.

"This staring contests dear. The anxiety of the next blink is too much for me." She smiled and ruffled his hair while he frowned at her, looking over to Sherlock she gave him wink while he tried to be pretend to be disinterested.

"Well if you have nothing further to say John, I really must freshen up. Appointment today." Sherlock removed his hands from his lips and straightened up in his chair, crossing his legs.

John sat forward, one arm resting on his leg while the other he simply pointed at Sherlock, trying to get the words out.

"Of course I have more to say. There will be no appointments today Sherlock. We have to deal with this."

"I'm afraid I can't cancel this one. Be here any minute." Sherlock got up, automatically going to button his missing blazer, realizing it was gone and straighten the collar of his button down instead.

"Sorry. Who will be here soon?" John asked, standing as well, anger still very prevalent on his face.

"Interviewing a new flat mate today." And with that, he brushed pass John, through the kitchen and into his bedroom, the door clicking almost silently behind him. John spun around to face Mary in the kitchen.

"Flat mate? Did he just say he was getting a flat mate?" He asked his wife, disbelief poring out of his every pore.

"I believe he did." She answered, handing him a cup of tea before sitting in Sherlock's chair, "Good Lord! This chair is bloody uncomfortable." She tried to shift around, get comfortable, to no avail.

"Much like the man himself," John muttered.

Before Mary could respond, there was a knock at the door. Both turned their attention to it, curious as to the new comer Sherlock was thinking about letting into his home. John made his way slowly over to the door, opening it slowly.

"Hi, sorry about just coming up to the door, but no one was answering downstairs and it was open. Are you Sherlock?"

Standing before John, just inside the doorway, was a woman. Just over five feet tall, very curvy, shoulder length brown hair. Bright green eyes looking back at him, John was very surprised.

"Um, sorry, am I in the wrong place?"

"No, sorry. No. I'm John, Sherlock's getting dressed." John found himself smiling down at the young lady, as hers seemed to light up the doorway,

"Oh good. I was worried I had intruded."

"I'm John, this is my wife, Mary. Just friends of Sherlock's popped in for a visit." A visit? More like an interrogation, Mary thought.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ashlyn Chausser." Ashlyn sat on the couch looking around the living room, seeming to take stock of the mess. After a minute she nodded her head. Seeming to approve of the place.

Before anyone could say anything more, Sherlock's door clicked open, and the sight of the man himself shortly followed the sound of footsteps. He immediately stood in front of Ashlyn, eyeing her, seeming to take stock of her, just like she had the room.

"When can you move in?"

"S-sorry?" She asked, caught off guard. She had expected a greeting, maybe some pleasantries.

"Moving in. When can you manage it?" John turned to Mary who just shrugged in response. She had no clue either.

"Monday would be best for me. If that's alright," Ashlyn told him, her bright green eyes quickly looking over to Mary who just nodded, silently assuring her that he was always like this.

"Very good," Sherlock turned from her at that point and walked to the mantle above the fireplace. Lifting the skull up, he removed a set of keys. As he turned he tossed them to Ashlyn, she got them just in time, "these are your keys. Please, try not to loose them."

Ashlyn stood up slowly. Looking Sherlock over, from head to toe. She didn't bother to hide it either. "Okay then."

Sherlock was a little unnerved. He had never really noticed if anyone had looked at him in any sort of way, not bothering to give the common wealth his attention.

The woman had done that. Slowly, she had raked her gaze over his entire body, settling her gaze on his eyes. She made no attempts to hide her thoughts, displayed over her face like a billboard. Eyes to read.

Though he could already see her whole life story before him, minus a few details, but who cares, her reason for that look was alarming. Alarming because he couldn't read it. The woman's look had been hot. Uncomfortable even with its undertones. Plainly visible to anyone who wanted to have a look. She would have gladly made him beg for mercy.

But this look was, different. Whereas when most looked at him, like Donovan, or even clients who didn't like what they heard, it was cold. The look itself held a cold sort of anger, felt like it was being pushed at him, like a shove. It never bothered him though. Not really.

John, along with Mrs. Hudson and Mary, gave him a warm look. Like a cup of tea after coming in from the rain.

This look was…interesting. Sherlock couldn't come up with anything to compare it to. He had never seen this before.

"Curious." He muttered to himself when he had shut the door behind her. Hadn't had an interesting case in months. Maybe until something better came along he would work on filling the holes in his deductions about his new flat mate.

"Oh Sherlock," He looked up at John at the sound of his name, "We aren't even close to done." Sighing, Sherlock crossed the room to the window, looking down onto the street. John was right of course. How would he explain it this time?


End file.
